


I Close My Eyes And Remember The First Night

by jungle_ride



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Balinor Lives, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/pseuds/jungle_ride
Summary: AU Balinor lives (because he SHOULD have). Balinor's first night back with Hunith.When he had left Merlin in Camelot and set out on his journey back to the beginning, having finally been granted a freedom which had been so cruelly denied, Balinor hadn’t been sure what to expect. He had come back to fulfil a promise in the wake of all his broken ones but the dreamlike happiness he now finds himself floating in had seemed out of reach.





	I Close My Eyes And Remember The First Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onasariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onasariel/gifts).



> So I completely 100% LOVE this couple and was ecstatic to write them for you. This idea sort of sprung to mind the moment I saw your prompt so I went with it. I hope you enjoy what is a little snippet of the happy ending they deserved to get. Happy Holidays.

Balinor eyelids, heavy with the weight of the day’s events, droop closed before flickering open once more as he stumbles and staggers his way towards the bed. Over the last decade Balinor has grown used to the numbness of longing for an abyss deep enough for him to lose himself entirely. Weariness has become a familiar burden; an accustomed demon that had indented itself in his soul but tonight is different. He is exhausted but there is a joy to be found in his aching bones. The poisoned thoughts that had so often clawed at the edges of his sanity are quiet. There will be no nightmares awaiting him in the dark, just the blissful drowsiness from a day reclaiming a hope long thought buried.  

Despite the happiness behind his lethargy, it had taken still taken every ounce of Balinor’s self-will for him to make it to the bed and not collapse on the wooden floor instead. Having spent years lying on a hard, often cold cave floor, the softness of the bedding is a strange but welcome change. Sitting himself down on the edge of the mattress Balinor leans down to remove his boots only to find his limbs pulling him down stones in a river. His will to move swiftly floats away and suddenly it no longer matters to him whether he is clothed or not. Sleep is calling him home and who is he to deny her call. With eyelids fluttering closed Balinor collapses in a soft heap, head hitting the pillow with a gentle thud. His thoughts drift like feathers in the wind, tickling at his skin but slipping through his fingers whenever he tries to grasp them too tightly.

However, despite his weary haze, Balinor makes sure to keep his legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He can already hear the chastising remarks about mud in the sheets, that Hunith would surely bombarded him with if he were to lift them up.  No doubt she’ll still scold him for not undressing. Balinor’s lips tug upwards softly. He distantly thinks to himself that if he could muster up the energy he would lift up his feet, boots and all, if only to see Hunith’s nose crinkle like it had done on those nights so many years ago. The memory of a younger Hunith slapping at his legs as she tutted and swept clumps of mud from the sheets, only to become entangled in his arms a second later, floats before his mind’s eye. Sighing Balinor allows his shoulders to fall deeper into the mattress as years of tormented regrets ebb away, replaced by the promise of the new memories to come.

When he had left Merlin in Camelot and set out on his journey back to the beginning, having finally been granted a freedom which had been so cruelly denied, Balinor hadn’t been sure what to expect. He had come back to fulfil a promise in the wake of all his broken ones but the dreamlike happiness he now finds himself floating in had seemed out of reach. Just a hopeless prayer of a broken man. Balinor would have been contented in just seeing Hunith once again. It was certainly more than he believed he deserved and even now, lying once more in her bed, Balinor can not understand how he has come to be here.

His own bitter thoughts through the years, had long since sowed the seed of belief that his love had been replaced by another’s and in many ways it had made it easier leaving her. There had always been a part of him though, one he’d buried deep  within himself, that knew it was lie. True enough, Hunith’s love had proved to be as steadfast and true as his own.

Balinor now hates himself for the choices he made from a sense of moral conscious, disgusted at all the time that was lost to them. That he made them loose. When those thoughts had tumbled out of him Hunith had covered his mouth with hers and breathed reassurance back into his lungs, fingertips gently brushing away the droplets of water that fell from his eyes.   If Hunith’s welcome hadn’t been enough to overwhelm his heart, the outpouring from the villagers themselves had caused Balinor to stumble over words, his tongue becoming heavy in his mouth as a monsoon of emotions surged through his veins.

Ealdor had welcomed him back like a soldier returned from war. It seemed that although his history in the village had been concealed, he had not been forgotten. The absence of his name solely for the purpose of respecting the wishes of Hunith and her heartbroken grief. Now in the glow of her returned heart, there had been a celebration. Work was left forgotten for the day, as the village came alive with merriment. A feast had been prepared, modest in comparison to the decadence of Camelot but Balinor had never seen anything finer.

After years of living in solitude with only the quiet of his own company, a poor tonic to the wounded hole inside him, Balinor had struggled to process the change from isolation to community. Accepted the villager’s outpouring of affection and hospitality with baffled humility Balinor had spent the first part of the night sitting quietly by the fire whittling wood, an act which had always helped to calm him, as he’d attempted to fit back into a skin he had long since shed.

Hunith had watched on, her unshed tears glimmering in the moonlight as Balinor was clapped on the back by the men and kissed on the cheeks by the women. The children had danced around him, pulling at his coat and begging him to tell them stories of dragons, offering him their enthralled attention and wide eyed curiosity. She had rarely left his side through it all, her hand clasping him tightly, as if she needed that constant reassurance to believe he was really there. After his own years spent locked in the bitter battlefield of ‘could have been’ and ‘what ifs’, Balinor had understood the sentiment all too well. Leaning into her he had kissed her head in hopes that the gesture would convey everything he couldn’t vocalise.

Somewhere between being clapped on the back by a man named John who asked if Balinor could help him with the livestock tomorrow and having a little girl named Grace whose eyes full of hope reminded him of Merlin, shyly ask him if she could have the wooden sculpture of a forget me not he had carved, the awkwardness inside him had begun to fade.

However it hadn’t been until Grace had asked with all her innocent love, if she could be the flower girl when Balinor married Hunith that something inside Balinor had snapped back into place. Throwing caution he had lived in for far too long, back to the wind Balinor had allowed the adolescent he had once been to rise from the ashes, older and wiser but there all the same.

Picking up Grace he had spun her around and promised her the position, much to her delight and kissed the tip of her nose as a lightness began to fill his body lifting his spirits till he felt he might float off into the sky. Hunith had smiled brightly at them, laughing through her tears as the Grace’s giggles took them both back to a time where anything had been possible. It seemed that time had arrived once more.

“Balinor are you awake?” Hunith’s dulcet tones pull Balinor from his contented memories and back into his new found reality.  

“Mmmmhh.” He mumbles as a reply. Although he hadn’t heard her come in, now that he’s aware of her presence Balinor can sense her every movement. He pictures her removing her shoes, placing them carefully in the corner by the door before picking up the candle she’d left on the table and moving closer to the bed.  The flicker of the orange flames dances, casting light in an otherwise darkened room. As Hunith comes closer Balinor can hear the gentle give and take of her breathes and the soft padding of her feet against the wooden floor.  It’s a calming lullaby that has him drifting back into the quiet hum of sleep until her disapproving tut, tongue clicking sharp and hard snaps him back.

“Oh Balinor look at you, you haven’t even taken off your boots?” Her tone is a mixture of gentle outraged and loving concern and although he tries not to, Balinor is unable to help the twitch of his lips or the childlike playfulness that creeps into his mood.  

“Well at least they’re not on the bed?” He offers opening his eyes and tilting his head he grins mischievously at her. The years seem to melting from his face revealing the much younger man he had once been. Hunith heart clenches at the sight, as a bittersweet pleasure swells in her chest.

“Thank goodness for small mercies.” Hunith says, eyes crinkling at the edges as she places the candle down on the small bedside table.

“Although as a tough old dragon lord,” Hunith adds and Balinor frowns back at her.

“Less of the old.” He grumbles, hand coming to stroke at his beard where he knows it’s heavily speckle with grey. Hunith shakes her head at him fondly and reaches out to brush his hand away, replacing it with her own as she traces the speckled shade of grey.

“I’m sorry, as a well distinguished dragon lord..”

“Better…” Balinor winks, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm.

“I’m pretty sure you could have managed to remove your boots at least.” Hunith concludes with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“Too tired.” Balinor moans, closing his eyes and throwing an arm dramatically over his face, one eye peeking open to watch her reaction. Hunith rolls her eyes but fails to conceal the dazzling smile that stretches wide across her face.

“Poor baby.” She teases with mock sympathy, slapping a hand lightly against his thigh. Balinor laughs, a short puff of sound that erupts from his throat like an earthquake splitting open the cocoon he’d once hidden in.

“Well I suppose, as you’re too exhausted from being dotted on all evening, I’d better take them off.” Hunith sighs theatrically; as if he was such a burden, before reaching down to pull off his boots, offering him a wink as she bends into her knees.

“You’re lucky it’s all I’m asking you to take off.” Balinor mutters and Hunith freezes, hands clasping at brown leather. Balinor hadn’t meant to say that aloud, it just sort of slipped out on a breath of air. For a horrifying second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake and a panic begins to rise.

Balinor can’t and won’t deny that the thought has been crossing his mind since the first moment he saw her again, bathed in the sunrises glow.  He wants her, in every way possible. Always has; always will. But Balinor also knows there’s been a lot to process between them today and there is still more to sift through.  The years of separation full of regret and loss, still sits between them, a hollow space that they must once more bridge together.

Balinor had become so lost in the familiarity of this moment he hadn’t stopped to consider if this was a step too far. He had been relying on a familiarity that maybe was no longer his to wield.  For although the love they share is burning as brightly as before, they have still been apart for more years than they were together. Perhaps Hunith wasn’t ready for that type of intimacy. Thinking they could leap back into a life that was never really lived, may have been too presumptuous. He is about to start apologising, already planning to sleep on the floor when Hunith’s fingers begin to run themselves up the length of his leg and his voice deserts him.  

“Well, now that you mention it, it is a rather warm night.” Despite the boldness of her body, her voice  is laced with  a nervousness that causes a shiver to run up his spine. It reminds him of the first time they did this, both of them young and inexperienced; fumbling their way through the rush of emotions and raw need.

Her eyes are cast downwards as she steals glances at him now and again, trying to judge his reaction. Balinor notes the spark of light that seems to flash in her pupils. He recognises it immediately and his stomach flips, a lustful warmth stirring within him.  

“Hmmm very warm indeed.” He agrees, swallowing hard. His eyes are full of want now, body twitching from the sheer need to touch her. Hunith, kneeling in front of him meets his gaze head on; bottom lip drawing through her teeth.

“I should take my coat of at least.” Balinor reasons, with an attempted and no doubt failed air of nonchalance.

“Mmmm seems only logical,” Hunith agrees, pulling off his boots and throwing them into the corner.  

“And I suppose I should take off”

“Everything.” Balinor quips his voice deep and horse. Hunith’s sudden laugh is a bright swell of sound that warms his heart. A sudden surge of energy floods his body. Reaching out Balinor encircles his arms around her waist, gripping her tightly he pulls her down onto the bed with him. Huinth squeals ring out in the quiet. It’s as if there are adolescents once more, the time spent apart blurring into nothing but a bad dream.

“I thought you said you were tired.” Hunith teases breathlessly, as Balinor runs his hands up the length of her body, pulling at the fabric of her dress to reveal skin.

“Not for this.” He says burying his face into her neck and kissing the bare skin there.

“Never for this.”

 


End file.
